


Your Song (This One's For You)

by blinking_post



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brief appearance by Chinen, Brief appearance by Keito, Cafe/Jazz Bar Owner Yuto, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Still an Idol Yamada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blinking_post/pseuds/blinking_post
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He would be lying if he says he doesn’t know why he’s so drawn to the place.  Yuto is fascinating and unlike anyone he’s ever met before, especially within the industry.  There’s an ease and comfort to his confidence, like he doesn’t have to think twice about how he carries himself or how he looks or how he appears to other people.  He realizes as he steps through the door that he’s already caught in Yuto’s snare and he doesn’t know what else to do but keep coming back.  Yuto is just… captivating.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Song (This One's For You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alchemicink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicink/gifts).



> For the love of God, this took ages to finish. _Ages._ I have angsted and I have raged quit, but I had already written so much that it felt like it would have been wasted if I didn't at least see it through LOL.
> 
> Also, this is for Holly, who wanted jazz Yamada. Spoiler: there isn't a lot of jazz Yamada at all. Oops?

\----

 

A new cafe opens a few blocks from Yamada’s apartment complex.  He wouldn’t have known at all except he passes it by chance one night while out on a walk.  Rare occasion but it happens sometimes when sleep evades him.  At first glance nothing about it says it’s a cafe except for the name.  The Suuu… tooo...rukku Cafe? he mouths silently, sounding out the characters in his head.  He looks at it’s ugly red door, an overgrown overgrown stork drawn on with black paint and thinks, “How interesting,” intrigued for the moment.

 

Naturally he’s curious.  His love for cafes is legendary at this point.  He’d meant to go back and explore but long days and an even longer schedule means it gets pushed to the back of his mind, clearly forgotten until a month later when he passes by that same ugly red door again.

 

What the hell.  He’s got a few hours to kill and this place is as good as any.  It beats sitting around in his apartment twiddling his thumbs until he is picked up for his next location shooting.  He sends off a quick text to Keito, asking, “New cafe; come check it out with?”

 

A minute later Keito sends back a sad face emoji and says he’s in the middle of something."

 

Yamada: Come anyway.

  
  
Keito: Hikaru will literally kill me if I ditch him.

 

Yamada huffs, sends off, “Bring him.”

 

Keito replies with, “He said no.”

 

Yamada resists the urge to roll his eyes.  These two.  Seriously.  Half the time Yamada just doesn’t know.  The other of the time he prefers to  _not_ know.

 

The first thing Yamada notices when he ventures inside is an unattended podium.  There’s no sign anywhere that states whether he should seat himself or wait to be seated, so he bites his lip, contemplating his next course of action, frozen in place until the person behind the bar (his sharp eyes catches the name “Nakajima” written on a nametag) half shouts a “You can seat yourself!” as he’s carrying two racks of high ball glasses back into the kitchen.

 

The second thing he notices is it’s completely empty save him which is a little unnerving as he tries to make himself comfortable in a corner booth, a cozy little table next to windows on both walls.  The decor is a mishmash of… random?  That’s the best he can come up with.  He’s not quite sure what the owner is going for exactly.  The booths are a deep red leather and lines the walls of a cafe, which is admittedly a little old-fashion but he can understand that. It’s the tables that are confusing.  They’re randomly strewn about without rhyme or reason, as if haphazardly pulled into place so as to make the cafe look less empty.  The bar -- a dark painted mahogany -- has a line of stools pushed in, waiting for someone, anyone, to pull up a seat and order a drink -- whiskey on the rocks or something because located on a shelf above the coffee beans and the espresso machine is whiskey, brandy, tequila, anything and everything offered in so many foreign names it’s enough to make his head spin.

 

The last thing he notices -- the thing that will change his life even if he doesn’t know it yet -- is a stage at the other end of the room.  Front and center a microphone is set up, piano slightly behind and back, and even further still, to the left and just out of focus is a drum set.  It makes him think to himself, “live performances at a cafe?”  With how dead it is now, even if it’s on a weekday, he doubts they could afford the coffee they were selling but who knows.  Maybe the owner is an eccentric billionaire looking for ways to waste his money away.  But what kind of cafe performance requires drums?  Aren’t they usually more, you know, love songs on acoustic guitar?

 

There is an impatient bounce in his leg as he waits for someone to come take his order, only to hear the familiar click of a camera shutter moments later.  He’s had his pictures taken enough times by professionals to recognize that sound anywhere.  He suppresses the sigh building up in his chest as he slowly turns his head towards the sound.  Unsurprisingly, he spots the culprit behind the bar, camera still in one hand.  Maybe it’s too much to ask for a few stolen moments alone, much less a few hours.  This person (“Nakajima,” his mind supplies for him) lowers his camera, a sheepish grin on his face.  At least he had the decency to look guilty.

 

“Please delete it,” he requests as he approaches the bar, so tired already but still wanting to be polite and cordial.

 

“Sorry, no can do,” he hears as a reply.  It’s not haughty or entitled but playful and teasing instead.

 

He tries again.  “Nakajima-san-”

 

“Yuto,” he interjects, beaming.  “Call me Yuto.”

 

Yamada, caught by surprise, pauses for a moment at the sudden request.  First names are so intimate.  At least to him they are.  To allow a stranger to call him by his first name so easily, what kind of person is this Nakajima Yuto?  Does he just go around befriending everyone and breaking hearts?  He takes a second look and it all starts to make sense.  Yuto, yes, Yuto because his mind loves betraying him, exudes friendly openness and he can’t help but think this is probably a normal occurrence.  Telling people to call him by his first name, that is.  Not sure about the taking pictures of strangers and/or idols though.

 

But no, he won’t be pulled in by this Yuto, at least not out loud.  “Nakajima-san,” he begins again, only to be interrupted once more.

 

“There’s no way I can delete it. Here, look.”  He leans over the counter and right into Yamada’s space, invading his senses as he turns the camera around to show him the picture he’d taken.  “Beautiful, right?”  It kind of is, actually.  “I saw you sitting there and I thought, ‘Ah, he’d make a great picture.’  How can I delete it when the subject is so beautiful?  That would be a crime!”

 

He does his best not to stumble back, heart thudding loudly in his ears, suddenly thrown thrown off balance.  He’s thankful he doesn’t trip over his own two feet.  “Okay,” he concedes, mumbling it out, avoiding all eye contact.  “You can keep it.  Just don’t sell it, okay?”

 

“Sell it?”  There’s a mischievous underlayer there, he can hear it.  “I’m keeping you all to myself.”  The calculated slight tilting of his head as he looks right at Yamada tells him Yuto knows he’s flirting.  More than that, he knows he’s throwing Yamada off balance and he’s revelling in it.

 

He should be annoyed -- he kind of is -- but the line is so terrible it almost works, especially since Yuto apparently has no shame in his quest of turning Yamada into a flustered, bumbling fool currently trying to re-grasp the Japanese language.  After what feels like forever, he manages to stutter out an, “Um, okay.  I- I have to go now.  Bye.”

 

Yuto gives him a cute little wave as he quickly turns to leave, face down, trying to hide the red still in his cheeks.  He’s not running away though.  Definitely not.  It’s a tactical retreat.  That’s what it is.  A tactical retreat.

 

\----

 

Inexplicably, he finds himself drawn back to the cafe even when he keeps telling himself to stay away.  He tells himself over and over that the service was terrible and the one staff member on hand was rude, taking pictures of strangers when he had no right to.  He has repeated the thought to himself so much the past few days he started to convince himself it was true, only to surprise himself as he opens that now too familiar red door again.  He has no idea what the hell he’s thinking.

 

He would be lying if he says he doesn’t know why he’s so drawn to the place.  Yuto is fascinating and unlike anyone he’s ever met before, especially within the industry.  There’s an ease and comfort to his confidence, like he doesn’t have to think twice about how he carries himself or how he looks or how he appears to other people.  He realizes as he steps through the door that he’s already caught in Yuto’s snare and he doesn’t know what else to do but keep coming back.  Yuto is just… captivating.  He doesn’t have a lot of chances to meet people outside of the idol world but even if he did he doesn’t think anyone would or  _could_ capture him the way Yuto had.  Just that thought is embarrassing enough.  Gods, he sounds like a lovesick fool.

 

The podium at the front of the cafe is empty this time as well, but there are a few girls giggling at the bar, half sitting on the stools as they lean over to try and get closer to Yuto.  He makes himself inconspicuous, pulling his hat down to hide the top half of his face.  It doesn’t matter much because the girls don’t give him a second glance.  They don’t even give him a first glance.  All their attention stays with Yuto.  One of the girls, probably the ringleader, smiles up at Yuto and says, in her cutest voice, “Yuto-kun.”

 

Yuto looks up at her.  “What can I get for you, Shio-chan?”

 

She leans forward, oblivious to the fact that Yuto backs away when she does, and asks him, “Can we come tonight?  You always say no but we promise we won’t tell anyone.”

 

Yuto’s smile stays the same but the girl misses the way Yuto’s eyes harden.  “Sorry, Shio-chan.  You know the policy.  Adults only.”

 

“But we’re sixteen already!”

 

“Then just four more years.”  Yuto keeps his tone light but the tense line in Yuto’s shoulders tells both Yamada and the girl that the conversation is over. “Would you like anything else?”

 

She sighs and shakes her head while everyone starts collecting their things.  “We have to go to cram school now.”

 

“That’s too bad.”  Yuto sounds genuinely disappointed but Yamada doesn’t know if it’s real or not.  He really, really hopes not.

 

Gathering all his courage, he approaches the bar after observing the exchanges of waves of goodbyes and promises to come back again tomorrow.  He pushes his hat back up to reveal his eyes, clears his throat, and as confidently as he can, says, “Hi.”

 

His heart skips a beat when Yuto lights up.  “You came back.”

 

“I like cafes,” he says.  “I didn’t get to try anything last time though so I thought I should give this place another chance.”  He rambles off the lie, the words slipping out of his mouth seamlessly, thank the gods for idol training.  It looks like Yuto buys it.  Or is at least kind enough not to say anything.

 

“Would would you like then?”  The smile never leaves his face.

 

It’s wishful thinking, probably, but he swears Yuto is more open towards him than the girls from before, and it makes him silently whoop in triumph.  Gods, how pathetic is that?  He’s competing against high school girls with a crush.

 

“Iced coffee.  Extra cream, extra sugar.”

 

Yuto is a flurry of long arms and nimble fingers as he mixes Yamada’s coffee together, pouring in cream and sugar before mixing it and turning around to hand it to him less than a minute later.  Yamada might be slightly impressed, but that might be because of Yuto’s handsome face.

 

“How much?” he asks as their fingers graze when he grabs his drink, sending a spark of excitement through his body.

 

“On the house.”

 

“No… I can’t do that.  Please let me pay.”

 

Yuto’s mouth slowly spreads into a grin and Yamada knows what’s coming.  He knows and already his cheeks are flaming as his heart beats so fast he can barely catch his breath.  “I’m luring you with coffee.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says while pushing some bills across the counter to Yuto.

 

Yuto pushes it back.  “Nope.  Done deal.”

 

“I have no say?”  Yamada asks as he stares at his money.

 

“Absolutely none.”

 

His smile is so wide it makes Yamada wants to reach over and cover it with his mouth.

 

\----

 

It never hits him that Yuto might genuinely not know who he is until Yuto stops himself mid-ramble about his latest camera purchase to ask, “Hey, what’s your name?” while Yamada sits on a stool at the bar, fingers wrapped around his glass, body leaning towards Yuto has he listens intently.  He’s taken aback, shocked to the core.

 

“You don’t know my name?”

 

It’s the first time Yuto has ever looked uncertain around him.  “Should I?  Did you tell me already and I forgot?  I wouldn’t forget your name though.  I mean, I know I tend to be forgetful but I’m pretty good with names and you know, you’re YOU and everything so I don’t think I would-”

 

Yuto really is endearing when he’s flustered like this.  A few weeks has passed since he first came back (fourteen to be exact, but who’s counting?) and after that he hadn’t been able to stop himself.  He had tried to spread out his visits at first, make it appear more sporadic but not even a month later and he was in there every morning to grab his cup of free coffee.  No way in hell was he ever going to admit to anyone that he comes to see Yuto but he has a sneaking suspicion Yuto knows anyway if the looks in the morning are anything to go by.

 

Sometimes he only has time for a quick smile and a brief good morning as it’s surprisingly busy early in the morning.  Sometimes he sits at the bar for hours as they talk about Yuto’s love for horses and archery and photography.  The drums.  Jazz.  The way he lights up when he talks about playing the drums and cameras and lenses can fuel Yamada’s smiles for days.

 

So, it never dawned on him that Yuto might not know his name.  Yuto had never asked before, had just slipped into call him “Beautiful” every morning.  “Hey, Beautiful,” he would say.  “Your usual?” and it was just Yuto being Yuto.  Flirting with him.  Messing with him.  Seeing how much he could make Yamada blush until the nickname kind of just stuck.

 

But now Yuto is the one who is flustered and rambling and looking like he’s praying for a higher power to please shut him up soon and it’s adorable, it really is.  He could watch this all day but Yamada takes pity on him.

 

“Yamada Ryosuke,” he says, interrupting Yuto mid-sentence.  “My name.  It’s Yamada Ryosuke.”

 

Yuto smiles at him, grateful.  “You look like a Ryosuke.”

 

“Good,” he replies, feeling a gentle smile tug at the corners of his mouth.  “That’s my name after all.”

  
  
“Can I call you Ryosuke?”

  
  
Yuto never ceases to surprise him.  It’s like he has no filter sometimes.  Maybe he just doesn’t care about what the rest of the world deemed acceptable.  Social etiquette?  What does that matter?  Yuto does things at his own pace and he’s never afraid to ask for something he wants.  If only Yamada could be like that.  If he could just look Yuto in the eye and say, “Hey, wanna grab coffee sometime?  Like a date?”

 

If only.  Yamada isn’t like that at all.  He’s recently just gotten over the crippling self-doubt and insecurity plaguing him since he was ten.  To have the confidence to ask Yuto out, that’s beyond what he can do.  So he’ll probably have this stupid crush on Yuto forever, hoping that someone out there has enough pity on him to end his misery.  If he could keep this though, if he could come here every day for his cup of coffee and have Yuto smile at him, lighting up like a Christmas tree when he talks about cameras and horses and Iaido and how much he loves the drum, he thinks that’s enough.

 

He realizes he’s been lost in his own thoughts too long when Yuto clears his throat, embarrassment tinting his cheeks pink while he rubs the back of his neck.  “Sorry, that was presumptuous of me, wasn’t it?”

 

“No!” he replies a beat too fast, panicked.  He takes half a second to compose himself before he begins again, this time calmer.  “No.  Ryosuke is- It’s fine.”

 

“Really?”  Yuto gives him hopeful, gleaming eyes.

 

“Yeah.  If-” he stutters like an idiot.  “If I can call you ‘Yuto.’”

 

He’s holding his breath, heart beating a smile a minute while waiting for Yuto’s answer even as he reminds himself that Yuto had already given him permission that first meeting.  But it feels right now, having it unfold like this.

 

Yuto grins down at him.  “Okay,” he says.  “Just Ryosuke and Yuto.  No ‘san” or ‘kun’ or anything.  Deal?”

 

“Deal.”

 

They even shake on it.

 

\----

 

It’s unusual for him to walk into The Stork Cafe mid-afternoon and not have Yuto greeting him with a bright smile, elbows propped on the bar, chin in the palm of his hands.  He’s even more shocked by the way Yuto ignores him, barely sparing him a glance before turning away.  Every day, without fail, Yuto would drop whatever he was doing to at least show him a smile but today, today he turns his back to Yamada, the muscles in his back becoming more and more tense until Yamada thinks that if he pokes it Yuto might shatter.

 

Yuto sighs out and mumbles into the phone, “Okay, I get it.  Bye.”  And then he sags, defeat written all over his body.

 

“What happened?” he asked the moment Yuto faces him.  He’s never seen Yuto anything but happy and filled with energy.  As he looks at the sadness displayed clearly across Yuto’s face he realizes he never wants to see Yuto like this again.

 

Yuto sighs and says, “Nothing,” even while the sullen note in his voice says otherwise.

 

Yamada knows better than to push, knows pushing will get him nowhere but Yuto clamming up.  If he wants to talk, he’ll talk.  “I’m here to listen whenever you want,” he says instead.

 

It’s only after Yuto serves him coffee -- the usual, too much sugar and too much cream -- that he finally spills.

 

“You know how at night the cafe turns into a jazz club?”

 

“Uh…no?”

 

Yuto looks taken aback, physically doing a double take at Yamada.  “You don’t?”

 

“This is actually the first time I’ve heard this.”

 

“Really?”  Disbelief can be heard loud and clear in Yuto’s voice.  “Well, okay.  The cafe turns into a jazz club at night.  We close at six and then open again at eight.  It’s kind of what we’re popular for.  I mean, I’m sure you’ve noticed that we don’t really have customers during the day…”

 

He nods, trying to process this new information.  It actually does explain so much.  The atmosphere, the dark color scheme.  The alcohol lining the shelves.  It seems almost stupid to not have asked about it before.

 

“I thought the owner was an eccentric billionaire and the cafe was their ego running rampant or something.”

 

Yuto’s shoulders brunch up and he wrings his fingers, uncomfortable.  “I’m not a billionaire.  At least I don’t think so?  Just a millionaire as far as I’m aware.  You know, family money and inheritance and all.”

 

“You own this place?”  The surprises never stop coming.  He needs to sit down.   _A millionaire?_ he thinks, and then realizes that it explains so much.  How else could Yuto afford any of the cameras and lenses and archery and to go horseback riding all the time?

 

Yuto nods and interrupts his train of thought.  “I wanted to do the club but sometimes I need something to do during the day.  I thought, ‘why not a cafe during the day?’  I mostly open during the day when I want to.”

 

“But it’s always open when I come.”

  
  
“Yuto grins up at him, says, “Well, yeah,” like it’s the most simple answer in the world.  It makes Yamada’s head swim in a lake of confusion.  “Anyway-”

 

“Oh!  Right.  Sorry.  Sorry, keep going,” he interjects, sheepish as he realizes he’s interrupted yet again.  Yuto doesn’t look like he minds.  In fact, he looks almost fond with the way his mouth twists into a muted smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly.

 

“We do live Jazz music here and my sax player just quit.”  Yuto is back to being dejected again, slumping down onto the bar.  “No notice or anything.  I get it, you know?  His dad fell ill and he’s going back home in a few days to take care of him but it just sucks, you know?  We only do live music.  It’s our thing.  I need a sax player even if it’s just for a few weeks so that I can find a permanent one, but it’s harder than you think.  No one plays the sax anymore.  Everyone wants to play electric bass or guitar or piano but the sax is like- it’s like the soul of jazz music, know you?”

 

Well, Yamada doesn’t know.  He knows absolutely nothing about jazz music so he stays mum on the subject.  Still, seeing Yuto so down makes him stupid.  He should just keep his mouth shut.  “I can play the sax a little,” he offers up, voice small, hoping against hope that it flies right over Yuto’s head.

 

“You can play the sax.”  Yuto’s words are measured, more a statement than a question, but then his eyes light up and, because this is Yuto, he asks without hesitation.  “Will you play for me?”

 

Yamada can’t meet his eyes but he does nod his head, hand gripping his left arm.  “I’m not very good and I can’t read music.  I play by ear so I probably won’t be much help.”

 

“You let me worry about that.”  Yuto is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet now.

 

“Okay,” he concedes.  “Sorry if I ruin your show.”

 

“Confidence, Ryosuke.  Confidence!”  At Yamada’s doubtful expression he softens.  “You could never ruin my show.  You’re doing me a favor and I’ll never forget that, okay?  If you want we can practice.”

 

“Right now?” he asks, a little bewildered.

  
  
“Sure,” Yuto replies, bright and happy and energetic Yuto again.  “Hold on.”  He walks to the window and turns off the open sign before he locks the door.  Yuto really does close and open whenever he wants to, doesn’t he?

 

“I don’t have my sax with me.”

 

“Oh, yeah.”  Yuto is unbothered.  “Why don’t you go grab it and I’ll put a setlist together?”

 

He’s already made plans. He could say no, tell Yuto sorry not tonight and it wouldn’t even be a lie but he doesn’t really want to.  What he wants is to spend the rest of his day in Yuto’s presence instead and now that he’s got a reason, well, he’s not going to say no.  He nods at Yuto and starts making his way to the door, only to be stopped.

 

“You can say, ‘No,’ you know,” he says.  “I don’t mean to pressure you.  It’s okay for you to say no sometimes.”

 

“I know.”  He offers Yuto a smile.  “But I want to.”

 

Yuto answers him a smile, soft and gentle, different from all the blinding ones before.  It makes his heart stutter and his breath catch in his throat all the way back to his apartment.  He shoots off a quick text to Chinen and Keito, apologizing as he cancels his plans with them but _hey, something important came up._

  
  
That’s how Yamada kind of becomes a semi-regular sax player in a jazz club.  (That’s later though.  First, he has to make sure he doesn’t let Yuto down.)

 

\----

 

“So, these are the jazz standards we’ll be practicing,” Yuto says, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when he hands the list of songs over to Yamada who had, just seconds before, just literally walked through the door, case still dangling by his side.

 

He scans over the list, going pale as he sees the names -- Georgia on My Mind, Cry Me a River, Take Five -- song after song with foreign names, all different tunes waiting for him to learn and it’s… it’s overwhelming, made even more so by the fact that--

 

“These are all American songs.”

 

Yuto’s face lights up.  “Yeah.  Jazz originally came from America.  Japanese jazz music is good but nothing sounds as good as American Jazz.”

 

Panic starts to grip his chest.  He doesn’t think he can do this, not even if it’s for Yuto.  “I don’t know if I-” A stutter.  “I mean- Look I can’t even read music.”  
  
Yuto smiles and grips his shoulders, squeezing both reassuringly.  “Don’t worry about that,” he says.  “Jazz is all about improv so as long as you’ve got the basic melody down just do whatever feels right.  It doesn’t have to be what’s on the music sheets.  That’s what makes jazz so great.”

 

Yuto’s words are meant to encourage him but they do nothing.  “I don’t know,” he say in return, dejected.  He had wanted to help.  He really did.  This is Yuto.  Of course he wanted to help.

 

“Hey,” Yuto says softly, bending down so that they’re eye to eye.  “You’ll be doing me a huge favor but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to, okay?  Maybe I was a little too enthusiastic and pushed you into it.  You can definitely say no.”  He gives Yamada a kind smile as his eyes crinkle.  “I’ll still give you free coffee.”

 

This feeling that takes over, that calms his heart down, it’s not love.  Not even remotely close.  He knows that right now it’s nothing more than a crush but as he looks back at Yuto and sees that reassuring smile, the way his brows are furrowed in slight concern, the way his eyes are soft and kind he knows that if he’s not careful he’s going to fall hard.  He shouldn’t let it happen -- being an idol and all -- and he’s not even technically allowed to have a girlfriend much less a boyfriend but just once, just this ONE TIME he wants something for himself, wants it so very much.  Just his own little world away from the chaos that is the rest of his life.  A little piece of paradise he can escape to.

 

He takes a deep breath, can’t even believe he’s doing this, and on the exhale he says, “Okay.  Let’s do this.”

 

Yuto lights up and it feels like a miracle.

 

Gods, what kind of cliche is he turning into?

 

\----

 

Yamada has a death grip on his sax while he watches the band from the side of the stage.  He’s dressed in a white vest and slacks, black dress shirt underneath, face half covered by his black fedora.  Earlier in the evening Yuto had plucked it off his head and said, “You’re performing.  Don’t hide your pretty face,” to which he had quickly made a grab for it only for Yuto to hold it high above his head, just out of reach.  He had made a half-assed excuse about it being in style and Yuto had plopped it back onto his head, leaning down until they’re practically sharing the same breath, and said, “Okay.  If that’s what you want.”

 

Yuto had decided to ease him in slowly, only including him in their set for the busiest two hours of the night -- nine to eleven -- and Yamada knows it was well intentioned but right now he’s watching them perform and gods, they’re all so good at what they’re doing.  The crowd loves them.  Mostly american, some tourists some not.  A good amount of Japanese people are there too.  Everyone is laughing and enjoying their drinks and they’re all swaying and jumping together on the dance floor.  Doing a concert with JUMP is one thing, their fans will love them either way, but performing like this, where all that matters is your music and how good you are, it’s frightening.

 

The woman, American with dark hair and doe blue eyes, pretty, crones to the crowd about taking a train.  She’s captivating the whole crowd with her smoky voice and energy but Yamada, Yamada can’t keep his eyes off of Yuto in the back, Yuto who is watching it all, setting the rhythm by tapping the cymbals and the snare drums with his brushes, Yuto who is nothing along and throwing his whole being into the music.  Maybe in another life Yuto would have been a star.  He sure looks the part as a grin splits his face when the woman, Summer, he remembers now, when Summer hits a high note.

 

He’s not ready when Summer calls him to the stage, worried beyond belief that even with the poor lighting and the badly placed fedora covering half his face people will still recognize him.  Each step he takes his feet feel heavier and heavier, like lead, until finally Yuto makes a gesturing joke, urging him onto the stage quickly amidst the cheers of the crowd.  The warm roar of welcome does nothing to help settle the knots in his stomach.  After performing so many concerts and live performances with the rest of JUMP he knows that technically he shouldn’t feel nervous anymore, Chinen sure doesn’t, but he never quite manages to shake the nerves away.

 

Yuto motions for him to take a deep breath which doesn’t really help any, and offers him a thumbs up and a wink and then a one, two, one two three four and they’re off.  It’s a rough open for him, fingers losing the rhythm of the song but but no one seems to care or notice.  He gives Yuto a worried looks but Yuto only returns his worried gazes with wide grins and happy, encouraging bops of his head to the beat.  Somewhere long song three it clicks for him and then the nerves turn into something exhilarating, much like the screams of his own fans.

 

Two hours fly by and at the end of it he’s still feeling pumped with adrenaline, like he can go on for at least another two more hours.  It wasn’t perfect.  He definitely needs more practice but he thinks he could get used to this, playing the sax and just hanging around the bar/cafe on his rest days with Yuto.

 

\----

 

In exchange for semi-playing regularly Yuto had insisted on teaching him how to read music.  It’s not something he had asked for but Yuto had looked so eager, so proud of himself for coming up with a solution.

 

“You won’t let me pay you,” Yuto had said when he asked why Yuto kept insisting.  “It doesn’t feel right to have you play in exchange for nothing.

 

Yamada had wanted to say so many things then.  He wanted to tell Yuto it was okay, he wasn’t doing it for the money.  He just wanted to help because it was Yuto.  He wanted to tell Yuto that he  _can't_ get paid for doing this, that if he did he’d be breaking his contract and if management ever found out he didn’t know what he would do.  Being an idol is all he knows and that might be taken away from him.  Some people’s contracts had been terminated for this exact reason, other’s warned.  Yamada doesn’t want to take the chance.

 

He didn’t say any of this though because how would he say it?   _Hey, guess what?  I’m a really popular idol, sorry I didn’t tell you before?_  It’s too late now.  So he had looked at Yuto with his bright, hopeful eyes and had given in.

 

It’s taking him longer than he thinks it should to learn how to read music.  It shouldn’t be so hard.  Just a handful of notes but as they sit hunched in one of the corner booths but Yamada keeps getting distracted.  Yuto’s fringe keeps falling into his eyes and unconsciously Yuto keeps running his hand through it to push it out of the way only to have it fall back into his eyes minutes later.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Rinse.  Repeat.  It’s driving Yamada crazy because he can’t look away.  How does Yuto keep looking so effortlessly cool all the time?  Cool and devastatingly gorgeous.

 

Gods, how does he reconcile this Yuto with the Yuto who had greeted him before?  The dork who had been dancing with a broom of all things when he had walked in, an old song singing about how it’s been a long, long time playing in the background as he swayed with his broom until he saw Yamada.  He hadn’t even hesitated, had just glided right over, dropping his broom next to one of the tables along the way and swept Yamada in by the waist, one palm curled around the small of his back, the other holding onto Yamada’s hand as he guided them around the dance floor in circles.  Yamada, too used to this by now, did his best not to step on Yuto’s toes.  He was successful.  Mostly.  He might have failed once or twice.  No more than three times.

 

He must have been staring too long, been too caught up in watching Yuto instead of paying attention because Yuto stops and is now looking right back at him.

 

“Is there something on my face?” he asks, already wiping at his cheeks and mouth with the palm of his hands.

 

“No,” he says, strained.  “Nothing.”

 

Yuto gives him a strange look, head cocked to one side, perplexed, his brows furrowed together like he’s trying to work something out.  Whatever it is he must have come to a conclusion on something because in the blink of an eye there’s a hand in his hair and a mouth on his. He sits there, eyes wide and frozen for a second too long.  His heart throbs in his chest as time comes to a still.  Yuto’s kiss is chaste and sweet, barely a brush of lips and he doesn’t push beyond that, as if he’s waiting for Yamada to make the next move.

 

He jerks away when he realizes that Yuto is kissing him.  In real life.  As in hey, not a dream.  He doesn’t know why he runs away, stumbling out of the booth, almost falling on his ass, grabbing his things and just… tripping out there door.

 

It’s what he’s wanted ever since Yuto had the nerve to call him “Beautiful.”  He just never thought he’d ever get it and now that he apparently has he doesn’t know what to do.  When he gets home after a mad dash that had the elderly clucking their tongues at him, he throws himself in bed and doesn’t come out for days because he’s so embarrassed with himself.  Yuto was offering himself right there in front of Yamada, handing himself over on a silver platter and Yamada had… he doesn’t know what he had done.  Choked, maybe?  He should have said something.  He should have kissed back.  Instead he had thrown Yuto’s offer right back in his face.

 

Ugh.

 

 _Ugh_.

 

\---

 

He forces himself into The Stork Cafe a few days later and, as expected, no one is there save Yuto who is messing about on his phone, frowning at it before setting it back down only to pick it up seconds later.  He approaches slowly, gingerly, afraid of startling him.

 

After having spent a significant amount of time in bed the past few days he’d come to a conclusion.  Yuto must have felt something for him even if it was just for the span of that too short kiss, right?  Yuto kissed him first, is that he’s saying.  That must mean something, right?  That thought alone had made him brave enough to venture out, had driving his feet all the way through that ugly red door so that he’s standing in front of Yuto, who is so distracted he hasn’t even noticed Yamada yet.

 

He waits a beat and then he clears his throat.  “I’d like my coffee.”  A pause. “Please,” he tacks on, trying to fake all the confidence he doesn’t feel while hiding all his nerves.

 

Finally Yuto’s head jerks up and he breaks out into a wide grin when he sees Yamada.  “Ryosuke,” he breathes out, relief washing over his face.  “You came back.”

 

“Yeah.”  They stand there awkwardly while a beat passes.  Then he clears his throat.  “About last time-”

 

“I’m sorry!” Yuto says in a panic, interjecting before Yamada finishes his thought.  The words send a cold chill down his spine.  Maybe he was wrong before.  Maybe Yuto doesn’t feel anything.

 

“You’re sorry?”

 

“I should have asked first.”

 

At those words joy threatens to bubble out, splitting his mouth into a wide grin.  “Don’t be sorry,” he hears himself say.  “Just ask me out.”

 

Yuto grins at him.  “You wanna go to New York?”

 

(He wasn’t kidding about New York.  Yamada had to, unfortunately, decline his New York offer.  He accepted the one to Hokane though.)

 

\----

 

Memories of him and Yuto are never like how it is in the movies.  In the movies it’s always razor sharp, every detailed recalled perfectly.  The way they looked, the way they dressed.  When, where, why, _how_?  All questions answered.  In real life it’s nothing like that.  It’s more half-second flashes than anything else when he closes his eyes.  Like Yuto wearing that dark blue button down shirt the first time he took Yamada to the beach and held his hand as they wandered into a secluded bend or that Yuto’s hair was floppier than normal the second time he leaned in to kiss Yamada during their first date.

 

Blue shirt, floppy hair.  What did these things matter?  They’re all little insignificant details.  What really sticks with him are the feelings, how overwhelming they all are in the moment.  That second kiss during their first date had his heart beating so hard in his chest he thought it would burst.  The giddiness of stolen kisses behind doors, inches away from the public before they stepped on stage to perform for the night.  The way his breath catches and the air whooshes out of his lungs when their eyes connect, Yuto at the drums, Yamada just trying to keep up.  The knot of fear and nerves in the pit of his stomach when Yuto had undressed him the first time.  The way he thought he’d go crazy if Yuto doesn’t do something soon when Yuto nips kisses along his jaw, one hand wrapped around him, stroking achingly slow.  The way his heart clenched and ached when, buried deep inside him, Yuto had stopped to brush the hair away from his face and gazed at him like he was in love.

 

Yamada doesn’t know if what they have is love.  If it isn’t it’s well on it’s way to being it.  Yuto just makes life ridiculously wonderful and he knows he’s been grinning like a fool the past month or so.  He’s trying to control it, he really is, especially since Keito and Chinen are shooting him suspicious looks.  He wants to but it seems like the happiness refuses to be contained or suppressed.  The more he tries the harder he smiles and well, whatever.  They can ask all they want.  He’s not going to say anything.

 

\----

 

He should have known sooner or later it would all come crashing down.  Especially when there are secrets involved.

 

“You have to take them down.”

 

He couldn’t quite believe when the first few seconds he had walked in to see his face lining the walls of Yuto’s cafe.  Him in his living room wearing a simple white tee, sprawled over the couch as he looked at his phone.  Probably at the group chat with JUMP.  The sultry gaze Yuto had managed to capture one night when Yamada had felt particularly playful.  His lovesick eyes on a hot summer day at the beach as he leered up at Yuto above the rim of his sunglasses, Yuto standing tall, a shadow over him, Yamada with his back on a towel in the sand.  Him on stage during one of their practice sessions, sax in his mouth, stage lights a glow him from above.

 

“What?”

 

“You have to take it down.”  He sounds panicked this time around.  He can hear it in his own voice.

 

“Why?  They’re just pictures and I already told you I wouldn’t sell them.”

 

“You don’t understand.”  He’s going to have to explain, isn’t he?  He’s going to have to tell the truth now.  One last ditched effort.  “Please, take them down.”

 

There’s hurt in Yuto’s eyes.  “You’re right.  I don’t understand.  You love when I take your pictures.  I just want to share how beautiful you are with the rest of the world.”

 

He feels himself crumbling.  It’s so Yuto to say something like this.  It’s so corny it makes him want to hide his face in embarrassment more than half the time but that’s probably what makes it so endearing.  That and the fact that they’re not lies.  Yuto is simple in a way that the rest of his life isn’t.  Yamada hates that he’s going to have to disappoint him.  Finally, he strangles out, “It’s illegal.”

 

More hurt washes out in waves from Yuto.  “You’re going to ban me from putting your pictures up.”

 

Yamada lets out a shaky breath as his eyes slide shut, brows furrowing in defeat.  “No.  Johnny’s Entertainment holds all copyrights to my image.  They won’t allow you to, especially without paying a fee regardless of what I say.  That’s just how they are.”

 

“Johnny’s Entertainment.”  Yuto seems at a loss.

 

He nods slowly.  “My management company.”

 

“Your management company.”  Maybe Yamada finally broke him.  He’s just repeating Yamada’s words back at him.

 

“I’m an idol,” he confesses, pained, as if the words hurt to say.  “Hey! Say! JUMP.  We’re kind of just hitting our stride now.  We had really successful concerts this year and we just did 24hr tv.  We got our own variety show and our singles and album sales are rising and…”

 

Gods, someone, please shut him up.  The more Yuto stares at him in silence the more he feels the need to fill in that space.  The more he talks the wider Yuto’s eyes get and he gets it, it’s a shock.  Yamada is an idol and he should have said something before but Yuto’s looking at him like he hardly knows Yamada at all and that’s probably what hurts the most out of all of this.  He wants to say that he’s still the same guy Yuto has been dating.  He’s still the same guy Yuto held hands with and kissed in hidden corners and he’s still the same guy who cooks dinner for Yuto when he comes over.  He’s still the same guy who likes his coffee too sweet and he’s still the same guy who cares about Yuto.  Nothing’s changed.  He wants to say all this but all he’s spewing out is useless and unimportant things about JUMP and Keito and Chinen.

 

Finally he runs out of the breath and he just stops.  They share a moment of silence, Yamada wringing his hands, nervous with anticipation for a response.  But Yuto says nothing.  The rejection is devastating.  He had thought when Yuto found out he’d laugh in Yamada’s face.  Or maybe he might be a little mad about being lied to.  He never thought he’d outright be rejected.  And without Yuto even saying a word.

 

He feels the tears brimming and runs out of there before he makes more of a fool out of himself.

 

\----

 

Keito and Chinen are worried, understandably so.  It’s been a month since he ran out on Yuto, who has tried a few times to contact him whether it be actually calling or just texting.  He’s forlorn, sighing every other ten minutes it sounds like, but he can’t bring himself to answer the calls or Yuto’s cryptic, “Can we please talk,” messages.  _Can we talk?_   Maybe they should but he doesn’t want to.  He knows where it’s going, can already see Yuto telling him he’s sorry but he can’t date an idol.  It’s too crazy.  The fame.  The fangirls.  The scrutiny on Yamada’s personal life infecting his own.  The constant paranoia over it.  Yamada doesn’t blame him either.  It still sucks.  For the first time he had something good going, something just for him, something _normal_.

 

There’s a million things to miss about Yuto.

 

His stupid, floppy hair that seems to always be perfectly windswept even though he’s done absolutely nothing to it.  There’s been many a time when he’s woken up in the morning to find Yuto asleep like the dead, hair just messy enough to look effortless.  And well, for Yuto, it kind of is.

 

He misses how Yuto can’t cook to save his life.  He burned rice once.  Yamada had to buy a new rice cooker and his apartment smelled like burnt rice for days.  It was nice though, staying at Yuto’s place instead.

 

He misses the view at Yuto’s place.  High skyscraper in the heart of Tokyo, floor to ceiling glass, the glow of headlights below like fireflies.

 

He misses how easily addicted to games Yuto gets.  He misses how Yuto drags him into playing with him and just when he’s about to become addicted himself Yuto loses interest and abandons it.

 

He misses how Yuto would brush his bangs away from his eyes, tuck his hair behind his fear and, with a warm palm on the side of his neck, tell him he’s beautiful.

 

He misses how at peace Yuto looks when he’s playing the drums.  He misses the way Yuto smiles at him over his cymbals when they’re about to begin a set.

 

It’s everything.  He misses everything.  Little things.  Stupid things.  Important things.  Things he was exasperated with before, like the way Yuto still keeps insisting on calling him Beautiful.  Things he took for granted, like how Yuto always made his coffee much sweeter than it needed to be because he knew Yamada loved sweets.  Things that made him feel like he could fly, like when he looked at Yamada like he was someone important to him, like he meant something.

 

It wasn’t love.  It was too soon to call it love but it would have been.  It was on it’s way to being love at least.  Now he’s left with nothing but what if’s and could have beens.  It makes him sad.  Haggard.  Defeated.  There are dark circles under his eyes that make-up barely cover.  He’s losing weight now that his appetite is gone.  When he hangs out with Chinen and Keito he does nothing more than pick at his food and he knows they worry.  They try to cheer him up, try to drag him out of his funk by inviting him out to do things he loved doing before.  Karaoke.  Hot spring trips.  Shopping.  Cafe hopping.  He loves cafe hopping but all it does now is remind him of Yuto and that brings with it a pain and longing he desperately wants to get over so he declines.

 

He appreciates all they’re trying to do for him but he wants to be alone for a while.  Just long enough for him to start feeling okay again.

 

\----

 

He gets a cryptic text from Keito.

 

“Come to the concert venue,” it reads.

  
  
“Why?” he sends back.

 

Nothing gets sent back.  Well, he could just ignore it.  He’s comfortable in his sweats and he’s already bundled up on the couch, settled in for a night of mindless drama watching.  But Keito wouldn’t just randomly ask him to go somewhere.  What if something was wrong?  What if he got himself trapped under something or other?  Yamada wouldn’t put it past him.  So, with a sigh, he tugs off his sweats, pulls on black jeans, and throws an autumn coat over his white v-neck tee.

 

There are arrows directing him to the stage.  It’s bathed in darkness, the only source of light behind him, so he approaches the center gingerly.  All of a sudden he hears the sound of stage lights being switched on and then, in front of his eyes, Yuto at a piano, brought in from who knows where, high treble notes filling the air.  It’s sounds familiar like he’s heard the song a million times before but the lyrics escape him.

 

Yuto, gorgeous, handsome Yuto is grinning at him over the piano, bright and sunny and like summer.  Yamada’s breath catches and then Yuto opens his mouth to sing.

 

_It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside_

_I'm not one of those who can easily hide_

 

Yuto’s voice is pleasant and smooth, not perfect but by the Gods he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything more beautiful before.   He laughs when he finally notices Chinen and Keito behind Yuto, holding Japanese translations of the English lyrics on huge, white boards high above Yuto’s head.

 

“I don’t have much money,” he breaks out a grin at this, can’t contain it even if he tries.  They both know that’s not true at all. “But if I did, I’d buy a big house where we both could live.”

 

Yuto grins at him through lyrics, cheeky eyes laughing at him.  “So excuse me forgetting but these things I do, you see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue.” _Idiot_ , he thinks fondly, chest feeling like it’s about to burst with happiness and joy.   _I'm Japanese.  How can my eyes be any other color but brown?_

 

“Anyway the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.”  Yamada resists the urge to roll his eyes even though he’s been grinning so much the whole time his mouth is starting to hurt.  But really, can Yuto get any cheesier than this?  Probably not.  This is really cheesy.  Like so cheesy he should have stopped this a long time ago.  Maybe like two bars after Yuto had started.

 

_If I was a sculptor, but then again no_

_Or a boy who makes potions in a traveling show_

_I know it''s not much but it's the best I can do_

_My gift is my song and this one's for you_

 

_And you can tell everybody this is your song_

_It maybe quite simple but now that it's done_

_I hope you don't mind_

_I hope you don't mind_

_That I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is now you're in the world_

 

The song ends and his breath catches with the last words, makes him feel tender and light, like he could just float away.  He tries to not look like a grinning idiot in front of Yuto and his friends but fails so, so miserably.  A silent beat passes, the two of them staring at each other, before Yuto stands and walks towards him, stops when he’s a foot away.  He looks down and Yamada looks up, and they share a smile before he opens his mouth to speak.  “That was super cheesy, you know that?”

  
  
Yuto’s smile turns into a short laugh.  “But Ryosuke,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice.  “You’re a sucker for this kind of stuff, right?”

 

“Shut up,” he shoots back lightheartedly as he punches one of Yuto’s shoulder.  Yuto moves with the momentum but when he moves back in the distance between their bodies is much smaller.  Yuto is right.  He  _is_ a sucker for these kind of things.  He can't even help it.

 

“I like you, you know?” Yuto says, voice soft and low.  “The idol thing, I can work with.”

 

“Yeah?” His chest is fluttering with hope.

 

“Yeah.”

 

He’s soaring.  One hand snakes up into Yuto’s hair, the other to the back of his neck, and Yuto closes the space between their lips, hands firm on Yamada’s hips as he deepens the kiss, opens Yamada’s mouth with his tongue and he can’t help the moan that escapes him.

 

Keito coughs once and he jerks back, embarrassed.  Keito looks uncomfortable while Chinen makes gagging faces but whatever.  He’s too happy to care.  Yuto turns around to face Yamada’s friends, one arm draped over Yamada’s shoulders.

 

“Wait, how did you guys meet?”

 

“I read reviews about Yuto’s cafe/bar and wanted to check it out.  We asked you if you wanted to go, remember?”  Keito says.

 

No, he doesn’t remember.  He remembers zoning in and out the only time they talked about visiting some cafes and rejecting the invitation but that must have been when they asked.

 

“Anyway,” Chinen interjects with.  “We get there and your boyfriend practically attacks us with millions of questions.  Really, Ryosuke.  You ran away without even letting him get over his shock?  And then you wouldn’t even answer his calls or reply to his messages?”

  
  
“I thought he was rejecting me!” He exclaimed, defensive.

 

At that Yuto’s head takes a sharp turn towards him.  “What?  You thought I was rejecting you?  Why would I do that?”

 

“Well, I mean, you weren’t saying anything and you just kept looking at me like you didn’t know me at all.”  Faintly, he hears Chinen making a noise in feigned disgust before he ushers him and Keito.  Good because he’s feeling more and more vulnerable as Yuto keeps peering at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

 

“I’m sorry if that’s how it came off,” Yuto says.  “I just, I was so surprised, but I should have known.  You have that star quality to you and all but I was just shocked and surprised and trying to process it.  Next thing I knew you were running away and cut off all contact with me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, means it too.  He really shouldn’t have just ignored Yuto.  He could have saved himself a month or so of angst if he hadn’t been such a coward.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Yuto says, brushing the back of his knuckles along Yamada’s cheek.  “Just keep dating me.”

 

Yamada leans into the touch and asks Yuto if he wants to go to New York together.  He could probably wrangle a week or two off work.  Inoo can handle the stress of being center for a week or two, right?  (Somewhere deep inside he cackles with glee. Inoo probably wouldn’t be able to.  He probably wouldn’t be able to at all.  He'd probably beg Yamada to come back before three days were through.)

 

Later, Yuto tells him he never would have said no.  Yamada was still the same guy he kissed and held hands with.  He was still the same guy Yuto took hundreds of photos of.  Yamada was still the same guy who liked too much sugar in his coffee and always made them dinner because he knew Yuto was hopeless at cooking.  Yamada was still the same guy who made Yuto’s heart skip a beat the first time they met and who made Yuto feel like if he had Yamada, he didn’t need anything else.  Yamada was still the same guy who made (and still makes) him so, so happy, happier than anyone before him ever did.  Him being an idol didn’t change any of that.

 

He climbs over Yuto, legs on either side of his hips, and presses their mouths together to shut him up.  He can’t take how honest Yuto is sometimes.  It’s overwhelming, the way he hides nothing, the way he says what he’s feeling without an ounce of fear or embarrassment.  Maybe some day he can be the same way.  Maybe someday he can tell Yuto how happy Yuto makes him in return.

 

Maybe someday he can say to Yuto, “I don’t think I want to spend my life with anyone else but you.

 

Someday.

 

\----

**Author's Note:**

> I adore all versions of "Your Song." The one that inspired me to write this was actually Ellie Goulding's version though. I recommend checking it out. It's a very pretty version =)
> 
> But yes, I AM NEVER TOUCHING THIS FIC AGAIN. No other fic has given me so much trouble and angst as this one LOL. ~~I also don't really like it as it's definitely one of my weaker ones. Also, like nothing happens. At all.~~
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated.


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